Pairs
by Audio Pineapple
Summary: Sam and Dean investigate a spree of murder suicides. Chapter Three Added.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I am not affiliated in any way, shape or form with the show.

Sam sat in the diner, his brow furrowed in concentration at his computer screen. Dean occasionally shot glances at him but he hadn't moved for the last ten minutes, so there didn't seem to be any point in disturbing him. All he'd get was a moody reply of 'I'm busy' and Dean would either have to retaliate with sarcasm or storm off and talk to some pretty waitress and leave Sam to his sulk.

So, Dean had decided to by-pass the whole argument and talk to the pretty waitress anyway. Not that he needed it with his credit cards, but he had already been rewarded for his efforts with a free coffee. He was about to try for a sandwich as well when he heard Sam clear his throat for attention. Sighing, Dean left the stool on the counter and slumped himself into a seat on the table. If Sam had decided to talk he had picked the exact wrong moment to do it.

"I think I found something."

Dean didn't know why he still felt a short pang of pain when Sam said that. He felt that he should have given up hope long ago that Sam would say something about Jessica, about how he was feeling, about anything but work. Not that Dean enjoyed chick flick moments, but he didn't consider it healthy for Sam to keep everything bottled up. "Yeah? What?"

Sam spun the computer around so Dean could see. It was on a local newspaper site. The headline read 'murder-suicide' and underneath was a picture of a smiling woman in her late thirties and a man in his early forties. "Doesn't sound like our kind of thing."

"Listen to this though," Sam turned the computer back to himself, reading from the screen. "Fourth murder-suicide in the town in just over two weeks…authorities are calling it an epidemic…residents worried about water supply…"

"Water supply?"

Sam chuckled disbelievingly, "yeah, water supply. Although some of them are saying that it's a curse. On the first of the month a fifty-two year old man, Alan Kerson, shot his wife and then himself. Four days after that, a sixteen year old student, Rebecca Runes stabbed her boyfriend to death and then slit her wrists. Four days after that, a twenty-one year old man, Roger Hedges poisoned his boyfriend with sleeping pills before taking an overdose. And four days after that," he tapped the computer screen, "37 year old Melissa Yeo shot her husband before shooting herself." He glanced over the top of the computer at Dean.

"Any connection between the victims?"

"Only that they lived in the same town and that they were supposedly in love with the person that they killed. Nothing else, they're different ages, genders, religions, sexual orientation. It probably wouldn't have been notable if it wasn't for the date pattern."

"Well it's certainly notable."

Sam closed the laptop, getting up to leave. "Come on then, town's only an hour away from here."

Dean surveyed the table. He had splashed out, buying Sam a tomato sandwich and a triple chocolate muffin. He couldn't remember the last time that Sam had eaten anything, it had to be at least a couple of days. He stayed sat down, looking into Sam's eyes. "Eat something Sammy."

"Don't call me Sammy. And we need to get moving, the last attack was four days ago, which means that two more people are going to die tonight if we don't stop this thing."

Dean opened his mouth, about to say something about Jessica and that Sam should stop punishing himself but he stopped himself. Doing that would jolt Sam out of being moody, but it would send him spiralling into his anger, and that made their missions more dangerous. So Dean settled for stretching out in the chair and shaking his head. "Not until you eat something."

"I'll take them in the car."

"No you won't! That's a muffin, do you really think I want crumbs everywhere?"

"Fine, I'll eat it somewhere else then, when we get to the town." Sam's voice was starting to rise and Dean knew that there was no use in arguing with him. It was better to just let Sam have his way and try to make him eat later.

Leaving the diner Dean climbed into the car after Sam and put on some music at full blast to try and drown out the silence between them. He started to drive, every so often glancing at Sam who was just staring out of the window with a far-away look in his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hello and welcome. At our motel we value your privacy but we do ask that, in return, you leave the room in an acceptable state." The clerk at the motel didn't bother to look up from his magazine when Dean and Sam entered. Dean went up to the counter and stood, waiting. "Yes sir is there anything I can do for you?"

"I was kind of hoping to check in." The clerk looked up for the first time, glancing from Sam to Dean in confusion. "We're not dating."

"I never said you were. I'm just surprised that you aren't a pair of rowdy teenagers." He sighed, running a hand through his short black hair and raising himself to his full height, his plaster smile replaced by a genuine one. "So, how long are you two saying?"

Dean looked behind him at Sam who was reclining against a wall, yawning. Sleeping whilst driving, while practical, hadn't suited Sam as a kid and it didn't seem to suit him much now. Although Dean doubted he would get any better sleep in an actual bed, Dean felt like it had to be easier to try. "Over the weekend, maybe more later."

The clerk started to type into the computer, "same room same bed, separate rooms separate beds or same room separate beds?"

"Same room, separate beds." Dean fished into his wallet and pulled out a credit card, handing it over the counter with practiced ease.

"Thank you Mr. Abbot, here is your room key, you can go straight through." He handed a key and the card back, satisfied that it had been accepted.

"Thanks. I'm Dean, this is my brother Sam."

Sam pulled himself away from the wall and started to trudge towards the rooms.

"Cheerful little fella ain't he? And I'm Stuart."

Dean felt an urge to attack Stuart but settled for a cold, stern tone of voice instead. "He's going through bereavement."

Stuart winced, calling over to Sam, "I'm sorry, I had no idea."

"S'okay."

Dean tossed the keys to Sam who continued onto the room before he began to question Stuart. "So, you only get teenagers here then?"

"Mainly, occasionally we get a couple on a road trip and things, sometimes married adults with something they picked up at one of the bars." He scoffed and rolled his eyes, "trust me when I say that its hard to keep what goes on here with the mission statement," he tapped a small white sign on the desk, which pledged privacy and requested acceptable room conditions. "Business has been slow this month, what with the epidemic and all."

It was what Dean had been waiting for, "epidemic?"

"There's sort of been a rash of murder-suicides this past month. Some people are adamant that the town is cursed or something."

Dean opted to laugh disbelievingly, "cursed? Yeah, right."

"Well, I don't know really. It could be, I suppose. I knew Rodger, he was one of the guys who killed his partner and then himself and I swear that they were normal people. I never saw anything that would indicate Roger as a ticking time-bomb. Of course, everyone is thinking that if they are not around the person that they love, they won't hurt them, which is why they won't book a room here anymore." He looked thoughtful for a moment, "which is good news in a way because it wouldn't be good for business. Although it would be good for word-of-mouth. Hmm."

"You got a girlfriend, boyfriend?"

"I'm single. Just broke up actually, long-term relationship." He sighed, "I only just started working here last month, my first night on the job and my girlfriend came in to rent a room with this random Adonis-type gym guy. Brilliant eh?"

Dean nodded, "you got a phone book? There's someone I want to look up." Stuart jerked his thumb over at the counter, now deep in thought, and Dean went and flicked through. There was only one Yeo listed and he made a note of the address before turning back to Stuart. "Thanks, I'm going to go off to my room."

Stuart gave him a distracted wave, "fine."

Dean went into the room and found Sam lying on one of the beds. He threw the sandwich and muffin at Sam, "you said you'd eat at the room."

"Fine." Sam opened the sandwich, picking at it.

"Looks like Stuart's safe, he's not dating anyone."

"Good."

"He did say that he'd just broken up with his girlfriend for cheating on him, might be something to look into. He seemed upset about it."

"Okay."

"I found the Yeo address."

Sam looked up at Dean and smiled for the first time since they had arrived, "what are we waiting for then?"

He got up from the bed and Dean wanted to say that they were waiting for Sam to sort his life out again but Sam had already gone out of the room. He followed him to the car and drove to the address. It looked like a typical house on a typical street and the crime scene tape had disappeared. Dean left the car, and tried to peer in through the windows. All the curtains were drawn and he decided it would be simplest to break in. He saw Sam join him and was about to when the door flew open, making them both jump back.

It was a young woman, dressed in a casual shirt and pair of jogging bottoms, her bleach blonde hair pulled back and her face devoid of make-up. She scowled as she surveyed Sam and Dean. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Nothing," Dean shot a wary glance at Sam before attempting his best seductive smile, the woman, however, didn't seem impressed with his effort. She surveyed them, before her scowl faded slightly and her eyebrows rose.

"You two reporters?"

"Sure," Dean looked towards Sam, surprised that he had spoken. "I'm Samuel Abbot and this is my brother, we heard that Melissa Yeo used to live here and came to find out some information."

She nodded and stepped back from the door, "my name's Cynthia, Melissa was my mom."

"I'm so sorry."

Dean had always been jealous that Sam was able to turn his sympathetic voice on and off at will, when he could never manage it. He always ended up sounding like he was trying not to laugh, even when he wasn't even considering laughing.

"Thanks, you two going to come in? I'll do anything to help clear my mother's name."

Sam walked in first and Dean followed him, being led to a living room. It looked ordinary, photos still up on the wall; some wilted flowers in a vase on the mantle-piece and a few books and magazines strewn about. Cynthia went and say down on a sofa and Sam took the chair opposite, leaving Dean standing upright.

Dean took out a notebook and a pen, trying to appear a genuine reporter. "What happened to your mom?" He attempted the sympathetic voice but she scowled at him again and he cursed himself internally, he had to stop trying that.

"She wasn't suicidal, and she wasn't homicidal. She loved my step-dad and he loved her. It wasn't her fault, I've been talking to people and they say that there is something in the water supply that's making people crazy."

Sam nodded understandingly, "I know this is a personal question but, did your step-father ever hit your mother? Ever hurt her?"

"No." She said the word sternly before sighing, "everyone has been blaming him as well, saying that he would have had to have done something but he raised me since I was six years old and he never did anything to hurt her."

"Was Melissa acting strange before the incident?"

"No, she was normal." Cynthia's eyes caught onto a clock that was hung on the wall and she paused, "there was something. I was talking to her on the phone and at eight o'clock, exactly at eight she stopped in the middle of her sentence and hung up. I just assumed that she had to run off somewhere she'd forgotten about and didn't think anything more of it until the police rang me to tell me about the deaths." She sighed heavily, "I don't live in town; I live a hundred miles away. But I swear that people are blaming me, saying that I could have done something to stop it."

"Trust me, you couldn't have done. I've felt like that before…" Dean realised what he was saying and stopped instantly. He had been about to mention his mother and he couldn't let Sam realise that he felt guilty for her death. He accepted that she was gone, and that at four years old he had been practically helpless but sometimes he still wondered if he could have done something, anything to stop it. If he'd gone to see Sam and saw the demon attack, alerting his father in time to save her; or if he had thrown a tantrum and she had paid attention to him instead of to Sam… he shook his head at himself. He couldn't let himself think about things like that… it wasn't healthy for him to let the emotions creep up on him, because then they could engulf him.

He expected Cynthia to react angrily to his sympathy but she shot him a smile that he usually saw victims reserve for Sam. He then realised that it was because he hadn't faked it, he had honestly felt sorry for her. He wondered if Sam honestly felt sorry for them, or if he was just a better actor. If he wasn't acting, Dean felt he was starting to understand why Sam was so despondent; he let himself become too engrossed in the people that they couldn't save.

"Well we should be going, deadlines and things."

"Okay, thank you for listening to me and not just writing her off for what she did."

"No problem."

Dean was barely listening to what Sam and Cynthia were saying to each other but he followed obediently when Sam left. The moment they were in the car Sam spoke up, "you couldn't have stopped…"

"No chick-flick moments," Dean muttered the sentence automatically, selecting the loudest music he had in the car to drown Sam out. He didn't need Sam's sympathy, even though at times he knew that he wanted to have it. But he had to be the older brother, the invincible one, the one who could cope.

"Fine," Sam shouted over the music as Dean pulled the car away, heading in the direction of the motel, "but it's already five o'clock, we need to work out what's wrong in the next three hours or…" He left the sentence hanging but Dean knew what he meant. At eight o'clock two more people were going to die unless they could stop them.


End file.
